


Bonded

by pensandwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x18, Angst, Coda, Destiel - Freeform, Dreams, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensandwings/pseuds/pensandwings





	1. Chapter 1

Bonded was the word that seemed to be pouring out of everyone's mouths lately. Or at least Dean thought to himself as he sat tapping the rim of his nearly finished bottle of cheap, memory numbing booze. He tipped the rusty colored glass to his lips, tired hands gripping the label of a happy couple canoeing. The carbonated drink soothed what ever it was tearing him apart inside. A blanket of relief covering up what was becoming very apparent to Dean that he would need to deal with soon. Finishing the bottle, he marked that off as something for another time. Pushing the thought down without notice, as he did more often than not lately. Adding another regret to the list he was drinking over in the first place. Not that he needed to bring that up right now either...

 "Dean," 

He lazily lifted his head, slightly startled, forgetting he wasn't alone with his thoughts but too drunk to care.

"Were you even listening to what I was saying?" Sam looked at him from across the table. He was staring at him like he did when they were younger and their Dad was maybe one, or two, sometimes three days late on coming home. Dean felt the same pang in the pit of his stomach that made him punch the wall that one time Dad was a week late and made Sammy cry. This time it was different knowing that look was over him. 

"Yeah. Yes, totally." Dean sat up straight clearing his throat. He hadn't been listening, and for how long was a mystery to him also. He was finding it harder to concentrate. He felt like his mind was constantly in a haze. His judgement clouded by expectations and stupid profound bonds.

"Then what did I say?" Sam folded his arms, knowing very well that Dean wouldn't be able to answer.  

"Shut up." Dean replied dishearteningly. He rose from the table, collecting the empties. He already dreaded the headache beginning to form as the glass clinked together. He could feel Sam's gaze follow him as he stepped into the kitchen. 

He hated going into the kitchen now. It used to be his favorite spot in the house besides his bed. But when the lights flicked on and the warm glow off the white tile felt cold and empty. Something was missing. Someone was missing. 

He didn't hear Sam follow him in and wouldn't have leaned sadly against the counter and sighed if he knew he was being watched.

"We'll get him back Dean." 

It was almost a whisper but still sent chills up Dean's spine. Both from the surprise and the realization that what he said might not actually be true.  

"Jesus Sam, you're over six foot. How do you even sneak up on someone." Dean didn't want to talk about him. He didn't want to think about what was probably happening to him right now. He didn't want to come to terms with there being nothing he could do to get him back, even if every sign was pointing that way. He just wanted to escape this conversation. It wasn't that he was trying to cut Sam out or hurt him. He just couldn't deal with this right now. He needed time to process, to think over and figure out how the hell he was feeling before he could tell Sam. 

Sam ignored his smart remarks. He just looked sad. For Dean presumably but he didn't understand why. Why wasn't Sam as torn up about this? He seemed more concerned with Dean's apparent inability to handle a walk to the kitchen alone. His confusion irritated him, turning hostile towards Sam obvious encouragement. 

"I know," he gritted through his teeth "I know that." He wouldn't face him, keeping his gaze fixed on the counter. Hands gripped the marble. He noticed how heavily he was breathing, his skin growing warm with embarrassment. Just a tingle compared to the heavy distaste he had for how bare his pain and resentment rang in his voice.

"I just wanted to make sure you're doing.." 

"Doing what Sam? Doing okay? Why wouldn't I be?" He was facing him now; using his hands a little more than he probably should have been, giving away how affected he actually was. 

"Well given the circumstances I just figured.." 

"You figured what? I couldn't handle myself without Cas here?" He winced at his name. The words causing him pain that he prayed Sam didn't notice.

"You said it, not me." He definitely noticed. Sam was always better at arguments. Dean had the insults but Sam had a way of getting you to admit to exactly what you were trying to hide. He mentally reprimanded himself for what was well over the millionth time for keeping Sam from becoming a lawyer. 

"I'm doing fine." He turned around again to face the counter. "Besides isn't it Amara I should be worried about? That Hand of God was our only plan to stop her. Who knows how it'll go down next time she shows up."

"How was it by the way?" Sam prodded coming up to lean beside Dean. "Being around her I mean, the bond and all."

If Dean was being honest with himself, he knew somewhere in himself that he was being pulled towards Amara. But it wasn't a craving or a yearning. It was an inevitability. Not a choice but something that simply was. And he hated it. The feeling was like tar in his blood. It beat hard in his temples and fueled his nightmares. And yet there it was. Refusing to leave regardless of Dean's opinion or consent. But he couldn't recall in that moment he watched the glass shatter, her dark figure appear and vanish  how he felt towards her. One word just kept replaying in is head. _Cas._

_"_ Nothing I couldn't handle." 

It was Sam's turn to sigh then. He knew Dean was keeping things from him intentionally. Although, he thought, there were somethings about Dean he may know better than he did himself. It was silent for a few minutes. Dean finished cleaning and Sam just watched as his clueless brother tore himself apart. He wished they could just talk about what was on the tips of their tongues for years whenever his name came up. He tried but never knew how to start.  He feared that soon it would be too late and Dean would fall deeper into the regret that hung around him for years. Time was running out.

"I'm off to bed, don't stay up too late Sammy." Dean patted Sam's back as he walked towards the hallway, head hanging. Sam felt the moment slipping again. Dean flicked off the light leaving Sam in the dark. 

"Dean," Sam called despite his urges to forget the whole thing. 

He stopped in the door frame, not looking back into the room and waited for Sam to continue. His heartbeat picked up again, the tone in Sam's voice was one that he dreaded. Time felt like it dragged on forever as Dean gripped the wood, foot ready to take flight once the moment allowed. He knew what questions were coming. They were long overdue but still seemed too soon for Dean to answer. He could hear the clock in the kitchen ticking as the seconds passed, the air getting thicker. 

"Y-You.. and Cas.." He started. Both brothers were silently thankful that neither could see the others face. Dean was shaking at each syllable. Never before had it been put into words, this feeling Dean got when Cas stood too close, or didn't call him to check in or when he closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted in life. He didn't want to hear them but he couldn't stop the warm feeling from spreading in his chest at the thought of them. He felt sick, dizzy almost. _Chalk it up to the booze Winchester._ He didn't know his response to what Sam wanted to ask. He desperately needed to get control of himself if he was going to get out of this without raising any further suspicion. 

"I know you've been close for a long time. I can't imagine how you're feeling right now. I mean I miss him and I want to get him back but.. Y-you must be..." He trailed off again. Not sure how to continue. “I've always wondered if there might be more going on..” Dean knew he should give him something, just a bit of truthfulness, but it got caught in his throat. The cat was out of the bag. He knew Sam was aware of how he felt even if Dean wasn't. Nothing he said now would take back the assuredness in in his brothers voice. Yet no words came out. Shock maybe. 

"You deserve to be happy too Dean. What ever that means to you." He finished, hoping Dean would understand. 

He was frozen in place. The wood piercing splinters into his hand. He felt heat at the corners of his eyes, blinking back what was threatening to ruin his barley maintained composure. He hurt, every part of him throwing contradictions in his face at Sam's statement. Happiness. He didn't know what that meant anymore. His choices led him to where he is and he deserved exactly everything that came his way. At least that's what he told himself to make sense of why everything he cared about left him. 

_Then why isn't he here?_   Dean wanted to ask.

_I'm sorry._ Dean wanted to say.

"Goodnight Sam," is what came out instead. He walked down the hall, into his room never being able to live again in a world where him and Sam didn't just have that conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, hands clasped in almost a prayer He didn't dare check the clock mockingly ticking at his inability to salvage sleep as the moments passed. The sheets clung to him, grasping at his skin, relentless on their reminder that he occupied this bed alone. He rubbed his eyes until purple and blueish swirls took over the image of red flames and a tan coat. Acknowledging that some part of him didn't want the morning to come, he savored every second he had until he would have to continue that conversation that made his chest tighten. He shouldn't be surprised, that Sam knew. How many fake errands could he make up? How many 'held too long' stares did he think he could he get away with, before he figured it out. It was selfish, he felt, knowing that Sam was probably waiting in vain to finish what Dean had no intention of ever addressing.

 

Mostly he just wasn't prepared for what his mind was going to project into his thoughts while he wasn't conscious enough to control them. They got too close to things, too deep into something he tried relentlessly to separate himself from. He had lost count of how many nights had passed since he was left in peace. Hanging his head, he tried to remember how long a human could go without sleep.He noticed a black plastic corner sticking out from under the bed, staring at him, demanding attention. Below his bare legs, Dean reached down to pull out the small CD case.

 

“ROLLING STONES,” the CD said.

 

Dean inspected the case, flipping it over to the song list on the back. The cover was worn, rightfully so, being one of the albums that frequented baby's stereo system often on long car rides. His eyes stopped at track number #3. Beast of Burden.

 

How long ago was that now? Cas sitting beside him, the smell of burning rubber and spring air whipping through the windows. It was one of those rare times that the world wasn't on the edge of an apocalypse, the fate of the Winchesters not threatened by some unseen deadly force. Feeling good, he popped in the CD that was now clenched in his hands. It was only a pit stop to pick up supplies, not nearly long enough to play the album through, but Dean turned up the sound and tapped along. Cas was often quiet when music was on, so his unreadable stare out the passenger window didn't raise any tension in the situation. A comfortable silence filled the space as they sped down the empty back-roads. The sky was warm, the sun waving it's farewell, kissing the tops of the trees. Dean leaned back into his seat, taking a private second to consume his surroundings. He barley noticed the little tugs at the corner of his lips, forming a small smile. Resisting the urge to stare, he only caught glimpses of brown hair and cracked hands in his side vision. The next CD skipped to the next track. The familiar guitar riff floated through the air.

 

_I'll never be your beast of burden.._

 

Truthfully, this was one of Dean's favorites. The lyrics always stirred something in him, a sense of nostalgia for things he hadn't experiences yet. He tapped more enthusiastically on the steering wheel, nodding his head to the beat. Getting lost in the song he didn't notice Cas watching him intently. He glanced over, catching blue eyes with an expression that made Dean shift in his seat uncomfortably.

 

“You know the rules Cas, driver chooses the music. Passenger agrees or gets to walk.” He nudged him arm, sending him a wink but not meeting his eyes. He was aware that Cas wasn't a huge fan of the human musical experience. When he had tried to educate him in the past on the music worth knowing, he brushed it off, simply stating he didn't “understand the point.”

 

_I've walked for miles.. My feet are hurting.._

 

 

Cas didn't answer. Taking his usual expression of quizzical consideration, he folded his hands in his lap. He wrung them together, harder than normal. There was something cutting the light air that had filled the car. A change neither wanted to comment on.

 

_All I want is for you to make love to me.._

 

Dean went to change the song, finger's pressing the dash at lightening speed. It was not his intention to move that fast, hoping to nonchalantly skip ahead a track . He felt the redness in his cheeks and hoped Cas didn't notice. _Why are you acting like a kid?_

 

“Wait,” Cas stopped him,“I think I enjoy this one.” Looking like he didn't know for sure, Dean hovered over the controls. Cas' hand was firmly pressed against his chest, like he was trying to push away a pain there. Dean retracted his arm awkwardly. They sat in silence the rest of the drive. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, but Dean noted the difference in Cas' demeanor. Sticking to his usual style of choosing to 'ignore a problem away', he didn't pry.

 

Dean got out of the car, Cas stayed. They had been carrying some special merchandise at the time and they had both rather not risk being part of the 10% increase of carjacking's in the area. He couldn't remember what he bought, just the persistent feeling of wanting to get back to the car as fast as possible. That's what it was always like, the pull of wanting to be next to him and the push screaming at him to run away as fast as possible. It was better for the both of them that way, safer. Still Dean rocked in pace, slapping his sides and fidgeting as the cashier run up his items. He itched to return to the promise of another hour car ride to change Cas' mind on a few more songs.

 

To his surprise, he saw Cas reinserting the same disk as he opened the door. He stared at him like a child being caught stealing another dessert. His cheeks did the closest thing that angels do to blush. He fumbled with the CD, trying to find anywhere for it to be other than his hands. It was strange watching Cas loose his composure, the impenetrable stone mask falling into a red faced mess.

 

“I-i apologize Dean, I know you have strict rules about driver/passenger music playing capabilities.” He looked so earnest, so sincerely sorry having feared breaking a stupid car rule he had made up so Sam wouldn't tamper with his baby. Dean couldn't help but laugh. It was only a small chuckle, stifled mostly. He slid back into the vehicle, throwing the bag of whatever the hell he told Sam he needed to get this moment alone, over his shoulder. “I think I can make an exception this time.” He took the CD from Cas' hands and pushed it back into place, where Dean would keep it for months after that, just in case he wanted to hear it again. Which he did quite often after that. “It reminds me of you,” Cas would say to him months later. Dean would want to press him on what he meant by that.

 

“So what changed your mind?” Dean asked after some time. Cas had been replaying track #3 for the last 50 miles, humming the tune faintly in a gruff, off key voice. “The first time I tired to show you the classics you gave me the cold shoulder.”

 

“It feels different now.” Foreign to Cas, certain songs elicited pain from places in himself that he would often rather not think about, slowly became increasingly harder to not think about. Visible on his face, Dean recognized the sad eyes and clenched fist. Cas was mirroring how he had sat that time he had gotten stood up by the brown haired girl from whatever small town they had been staying in at the time. Dad didn't say anything when Dean slumped into the car, crossing his arm over his chest. He ignored self-deprecating sighs while sliding in the Zeppelin tape and ignored what Dean would swear weren't tears while Dazed and Confused poured salt on his wounds. He had of course heard the song before but he hadn't felt it. Not in the way that seemed like the voice wailing over the tape was the one inside his head. It stuck with him, becoming his go to song when he was feeling especially cathartic. He lost track of how many times he fell asleep to the track in his ears. Dean thought that if he counted the days Cas was away from him that might be a good start.

 

 

It was drizzling and dark by the time they pulled up to the crappy motel conveniently placed along the interstate. Disappointment sliced Dean's stomach, never feeling satisfied with the way their time went. He never said the things he meant to, asked the questions he needed answers to. He packed in as much music knowledge as he could the rest of the drive home, probably getting carried away. Not aloud, but Dean was thankful that Cas listened regardless, even asking a question or two. Cas lingered as they stepped out of the car, stopping short as he rounded the hood.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah.” Dean didn't stop walking towards the chipping paint of the door, juggling keys in hand. Blinking, he only turned when there was no response. The rain beat down on the shoulders of the tan coat Cas always sported. His hair was disheveled and starting to drip. Bags were forming under blue eyes, showing the worlds affect on his body. The streetlights glowed sending a halo of light around his speechless figure. Dean took a step towards him into the forming storm. “You okay man?” The third step in he noticed the smile on the mans face.

 

“I want to thank you,” Cas spoke quietly, staring at the sky. Drops hitting his skin, rolling down like tears, washing him clean. The scene almost made Dean feel freed from his sins, a personal baptism. He was shaking from the moisture seeping into his skin. “I never used to understand the human experience. They kill, steal, lie. There's so much pain. They spend most of the time acting on self-destructive emotional urges. I couldn't comprehend why Father would create something so fragile.”

 

“Are you sure you're trying to thank me? It sounds like your should be inciting a riot against the man,” Dean joked. He didn't fully grasp the serious tone spilling ridiculous words over his chapped, pink lips. There wasn't a single thing that Dean could think of that would prove him worthy of thankfulness from Cas. What had he done for him other than bring on a world of troubles? He turned his life upside down. He reaffirmed his belief that he deserved far less from the man who had saved his life several times.

 

“But there's meaning in music,” Cas continued, having barley noticed Dean's obvious denial of having any positive outcome affiliated with his actions. “And kindness in others. There is a satisfaction in eating cheap burgers, in dreaming, and craving the company of familiar faces. It makes those moments worth fighting through.”

 

Dean was in awe. How had the angel he tried to stab on their first encounter become so very human, understanding the terrible, beautiful gift it was to be alive. It couldn't have been anything to do with him. He did nothing but take, feeling indebted to the countless sacrifices Dean had asked Cas to make. Cas had never batted an eye at following him into certain death. He didn't like to focus on that fact too much, choosing to think his loyalty to serve and protect was his motivation for helping. Dean never took the time to appreciate that he may be providing anything in return worth mentioning.

 

“Thank you for showing me free will, Dean Winchester.” There were times Dean thought about how different both Cas and Dean's life would be if he hadn't pulled him so hard out of heaven. He felt guilty, condemning an angel to hell. To hear him content with his place by his side, felt like years of unease melting off Dean's back. He fell asleep with easily that night.

 

Shadows from the window had crept up the wall, when Dean finally took his eyes away from the CD. How easy it was to get lost in memories, Dean thought, feeling like he spent more time in the past than present. He had conversations in his head, replaying how things should have went. Why couldn't he have just told then? He wanted to. He wanted to grab him, shake him, ask him how he didn't see that Dean owed everything to him. He needed to tell him how he felt braver with him around, not caring what the world threw at him. It was comforting, not being able to escape Cas' lingering presence. He hadn't a clue where the angel actually was at that moment, but a part of him never seemed not too far from where Dean was. Always kept his promise. _I'll watch over you._ He could hear it too clearly, the low tone that sent shivers down the tips of Dean's fingers. Cas' monotone drawl was electricity under his skin, sparking him alive. Sleep finally overtook him, clutching the CD to his chest, feeling closer to Cas than he had is some time.

 


End file.
